


Baby my heart beats faster since my eyes discovered yours

by Thatsmypie_67



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Brief Gemma/Ashton, Cute Kids, Cutesy, Domestic Fluff, Ed is only mentioned, F/M, Fluff, Growing Up Together, Harry is such a cutie, Louis just loves him a whole lot, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Niam as a romance, Nick is a jerk, No Smut, Sorry Ed, The rest of the boys are there too, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Young Love, Ziam as a bromance, baby!harry - Freeform, child!louis, not tomlinson sisters sorry, they just don't exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatsmypie_67/pseuds/Thatsmypie_67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"..Maybe we can sleep in, make you banana pancakes and pretend like it's the weekend now" He sings moving his hips obscenely within the music that pierces right out of the stereo's speakers.<br/>He misses the death glare the blue eyed boy behind his back gives him, too focused on making the full English breakfast he promised his lover last night, when the boy decides to make himself noticed.<br/>"You do know what the word 'Quiet' means, right?" He hisses under his breath stealing a bit of the cream on the corner "Also, each day the sun rises you become more like a sap-indie rock star. I don't know why I put up with you" He adds yawning.<br/>Harry spins almost inmediately, checking his boy out -he has done that a whole lot lately aparently, but. Sue him- and he looks as beautiful as ever.  His thin lips are curved in a not-so hidden smirk and his fringe falls wildly and messy everywhere but where Louis wants it to be. He could spend the rest of his life talking about his perfect cheekbones and long delicate eyelashes. But then again, sue him.<br/>"Meh, I know you love me"</p><p>Or</p><p>Harry is still a baby and Louis knows he is going to love him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii this is my first AU posted here ever, so I hope you like it! Also, english is not my first lenguage so I'm so sorry if I got something wrong.  
> Enjoy!  
> Tw: @KissMe_1DLS  
> Insta: roci1d_99  
> Tumblr: hazzndboo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

         

***1 &4***

 

 

The first time he saw the curly boy, he knew he was whipped. 

 

Okay, well. Maybe he didn't use that specific word, mostly because he was four years old and didn't even know how to spell his name properly without messing the 'S' up, but he knew the feeling anyway. He's already gone for him, yet he hasn't even spoken a word to him.

 

"But mummy he is just so pretty" He whines each time his mom tries to make he go and play on the sand, or make new friends instead of staring at the baby on a trolley next to the benches they are sitting on.

 

He can't keep himself from staring though, can't stop watching how his plump lips make little cute bubbles while he tries to keep his hands clasped together above his little tummy, vibrating from the tiny squeaks he makes each time he makes a big bubble. He can't see his eyes, but he thinks they are just as beautiful as the rest of his body.

Maybe they are chocolate brown just like his messy wild curls, blue like his own, or a shade of fresh green like the trees behind him. He is going to love them either way, he thinks. He is going to love all of him forever.

 He just wants to go where the baby is and make him giggle and hold him and kiss him. He is sounding ridiculous, he knows it, but he can't bring himself to care.

He is a dreamer after all, right? He believes in fairy tales, and don't get started with Peter Pan because he proudly could make a list of things of why is more real than the evolution itself. 

 

And he doesn't know why he is being like this right now -not because the baby is a boy instead of a girl, of course not. His mom has always told him to love whoever he wants, so. That's no the issue-  What he doesn't fully understand is why he is being so over-protective, so concerned about him not being happy and too worried about someone breaking him. But it's just... He is so tiny, so fragile and so so lovely anyone could hurt him in any way, and that terrifies him. He seems so soft and cuddly, he just wants to run his hands through his hair and trace gently his features with his fingertips; from the delicate eyebrows to his sweet dimples.  He wants to go and meet him, so he does.

 

He tells his mother he is going to pick some flowers -he loves flowers, he always has- when she sends him an accusing glare, as if telling him not to go where the baby is, and starts walking past the blanches while trying to ignore the fact that he is just so near the baby. His thoughts are " _OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod_ " and " _He'ssoprettyHe'ssoprettyHe'ssopretty_ " and his palms are beginning to sweat, he feels his belly doing flips-flops and his feet are beaming with excitement. He just had the best idea and he doesn't know if he's going to end the afternoon without crying of happiness. He gets out of the sand and starts walking to the public garden next to the park until he gets where the garden ends and a limitless row of alive trees begins to form -he knows the best roses are in there- He starts looking for the best rose because that's what his boy deserves -he deserves the world, but a rose is the only thing he can give him without getting in trouble with his mum- and soon after he finds it. It's... well it's a rose after all, so it isn't too different from the rest, but he just _knows_. He knows because of its vivid red colour, because the sweetness the petals radiate or because she glows out of the others and he knows. He knows it's the one. So he picks the rose happily, careful that it doesn't get messed up, and heads up where he feels the need to go.

 

Saying he's nervous is understandable -he's about to meet the most beautiful person he's ever seen, for God's shake!- and when he gets near him, near enough not to just see him but to appreciate his features as well, he almost falls right on the ground because of a stupid step. Stupid step and stupid obsession of building them near children.

That only gets him more nervous, and when he looks up while trying to fix his fringe, that falls on his face and he can't even see a thing, he realizes he's a lot more near the benches than he thought he was. He stops before he arrives, trying to fix his uncontrollable fringe and smoothing his clothes -if he knew he was going to be in this situation, he would have wore his superman's t-shirt- and before he gets in front of the baby, he gets the need to smell the rose. He does, slowly and trying to look interesting, and while he keeps smelling it he begins to walk until he is facing the baby. And. Oh God. His eyes are green.

 

They are so green, and so wide and alive and he can't remember how to breath properly, can't even remember what he was supposed to do. His eyes are focused on the rattle he is playing with and he keeps giggling each time it makes a sound. His heart, he thinks, might explode because of the adorableness and sweetness he is experimenting. He decides to give him the rose in that moment, a wide smile plastered on his face. He is leaning in, when suddenly-

 

He sneezes.

 

He fucking sneezes and God knows he is so insecure of the sounds he makes when he sneezes, it makes him look like a proper dog with a cold. He's just embarrassed himself in front of the glowing sun next to him and he can't stop the blush that is spreading out right now all over his cheeks and chest.

  
" **Oops** " He whispers tilting his head to one side, loud enough for the baby to hear. he does though, but what he didn't expect was the squeal the baby made right after the word left his mouth. It sounds an awful lot like " _Hi_!", but could the baby talk? "Hi?" he says confused looking at him in the eye. The baby just starts giggling while keeping the eye-contact when he repeats the word " **Hi!** " between his unceasing giggles. Louis smile so bright and happy, his cheeks hurting from how hard he is smiling, but he doesn't seem to care because he is now with this beautiful creature and he just made him giggle.  He begins to put funny faces, making the tiny boy cry from laughter and he could cry too, really, because he is keeping him happy and it's honestly the best feeling in the world. He promises to himself to always bring him a smile on the face and make him giggle cutely just like he is doing now. And man that he keeps that promise.

 

He is too concentrated on the baby that he doesn't acknowledge the baby's mother presence. She is looking at him with a fond smile, yet worried because that child is so much older than her baby and she doesn't want him to get hurt. But needless to say, even if she still doesn't know why, she thinks she can trust him. Also, he looks so cute trying his hardest to make the baby giggle so she thinks it's okay. However, she decides to make an appearance and raising her eyebrow she asks "Who are you?" The boy stares at the woman, feeling how his face starts to get heated and probably so so red. He doesn't know what to say, hasn't even thought about meeting his mother that soon. He tries to talk, but the words get stuck on his throat and without intention of coming out soon. "Umm... I- I'm Louis ma'am" He speaks the best he can, a shy smile adorning his face "I just... I saw the baby and he is... He is so pretty I wanted to meet him" he answers to the unspoken question the woman is making with her eyes.

 

"Oh honey" She sighs with fond eyes "I'm Anne, the baby's mother. It's nice to meet you" she says approaching him and giving him a small hug and kissing his forehead. Louis just hugs her back, a relieved smile on his face and millions of questions on his mind. When he lets go, he can't stop himself from asking "What's his name?" he asks with wonder in his eyes "Harry" She answers with a knowing smile before the rose he was supposed to give Harry catches her eyes "That rose is beautiful. For whom it is? For your girlfriend, maybe?" And Louis just looks at her shyly while shaking his head shortly "It's for Harry..." He answers with hesitation in his voice. Anne look at him with wide eyes, asking herself where did this adorable boy came from. Her thoughts are disturbed because of woman about her age calling for Louis.

 

"Louis, I told you not to annoy the baby!" She demands him with an angry expression in her face, coming up where they were "I'm sorry ma'am, I don't know what is wrong with him. Normally he is so responsible and always listens to me but he thought it would be funny to mess with your baby. I don't know, I'm sorry" She says almost ashamed because of the behaviour of her son "It's fine really, he was such a sweetheart with him. He isn't disturbing us, moreover I think Harry is enjoying the company" She answers chuckling softly. Louis is just looking at the scene so guilty, he didn't want to upset his mother and he is in the verge of crying because he never wants to do that. He just thought it would be great to see Harry and didn't think he could annoy him. "Did I annoy you?" Louis asks softly, caressing Harry's chubby cheeks with his fingertips. Harry looks at him with wide confused eyes and Louis just sees _GreenGreenGreen_ but he thinks it's okay because it makes him feel safe and content. Then, all of a sudden Harry smiles lovingly, dimples on full display, and says it.

 

 

" **Louee?** " 

 

And

 

Did he just said his name?

 

"Harry did you say my name?" He whispers amazed, a couple of tears falling down his rosy cheeks, and Harry seems to like the sound of his name rolling down his tongue because he says it again "Louee!" He starts giggling and can't stop moving his hands up and down while chanting his name, until he catches Louis' hands in his own and Louis laces their fingers together, giving each palm a small kiss. "Did you hear that? He said my name, mummy he said my name!" He yells happily bouncing, careful to not let the baby's hands go, and look at his mother and Harry's mother. They have a shocked expression and they can't believe what they just saw. Their mothers share a glance, before telling Louis how happy they are that Harry knows his name. And while they exchange numbers for play dates, Louis leans in and placing his lips next to Harry's left ear he murmurs softly " _You know, we are going to be together forever_ " before giving him a little peck just where his dimple is. He didn't know it was going to become a reality.

 

It's getting dark and both mothers decide to go home, not before Louis giving Anne the rose -He didn't give Harry the rose because "What if he gets hurt with the thorns? I don't want him to get hurt" and giving Harry another peck, this time soundly and wet, before waving goodbye.

 

Needless to say, Louis couldn't stop talking about Harry the rest of the night. And when he went to sleep he didn't dream about green hats, pirates, pixie-dust and Neverland; this time the dreams were about green eyes, soft smiles and beautiful boys saying his name. They were leaded by a pretty boy called Harry -the most beautiful so far- and it promised a future full of sun-lighted kisses and getaways to the beach.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasss. So here is the second chapter. I'm sorry I'm updating now, when I should have years ago. But I haven't had time and the exams were making me wanting to commit suicide.  
> Sorry again.  
> I promise from now on I will update each weekend.  
> Hope you like it xx  
> Kuddos and comments are appreciated -Plz be nice to me-

***4 & 7***

 

It’s just.

It’s nearly Christmas, his _favoritest_ season of the year –“That isn’t even a word, Harold” “Shut up Lewis, of course it is”- and he isn’t saying it just because of the white snow that threatens to fall on Boxing Day, making his chubby cheeks get all flushed and shiny when a melting snowflake lands on his left dimple; not even because of the soft thumbs that caress his plump sticky chocolate flavored lips, champed and slightly shivering on a freezing day –Well, maybe it is one of the reasons, but. Sue him-

It isn’t because of the presents, either. Lovely presents that never cross his mind when someone asks him about that obsession of him that makes his insides feel all tingly and funny, belly swelling with something like little butterflies dancing and trying to mock him; millions of fireworks that makes he want to shout everything he feels, and loves, and fears and all in between.

And everyone loves Christmas, really, loves the lights that make a city feel beautiful and the way a heart skips a beat on Christmas morning. But no one has a better excuse to do so, than him.

Sometimes, when he thinks too much –In terms of a 4 Year old English boy- he gets sad, feels the pity for all those people who don’t know his boy and won’t ever understand how magical and beautiful this date can be. He sort of whishes everyone could get the opportunity to get to know his boy so they could understand what really happiness is about.

 _Happiness_? Happiness is being able to spend Christmas Eve celebrating his angel’s birthday.

People say it sucks, to celebrate your birthday on Christmas Eve because you get less present than someone whose birthday is in any other normal day. But he knows better, he knows it’s something completely different and no matter how many times he has said it he thinks he would never get tired of reminding people every single Christmas Eve if it meant he wouldn’t have let his boy go by then.

 _So yeah_.

It’s nearly Christmas, and his stupid little body decided it was such a great idea to catch the flu two days before Louis’ birthday. Thanks for that, defenses.

So now here he is, tucked under the milky sheets of his bed, a blanket well rested on his body until it touches his chin. The entire mattress is surrounded by some used tissues, traces of chocolate stains on the duvet at his feet still visible from the day he thought it was a good idea to have a little snack during a tickle fight. He still hasn’t told his mother about it.

“But mummy” he whines for the twelfth time that morning. He wants to go to Louis’ birthday so badly; he has had his birthday present all hidden on the closet for weeks now. He has never missed a playdate with him, not even when he was a newborn, and just his luck goes and decides for him it was the best of the ideas to miss it for the first time just now, on his birthday. _Cheers_.

“Please, pretty please. I promise I’m so much better than yesterday” He pleads with his sweet childish voice, which ends on a fit of coughs that makes his innocent eyes get brimmed with unshed tears.

Anne arches an eyebrow at him with a thermometer still in hand.

“No way, honey. Your temperature is so high” She says with that soft, gentle voice all mothers have like this.

Harry is so _so_ close to throwing a tantrum. His hands are clenching on the pillow cuddled to his little tummy, knuckles turning white by the force of it and rosy lip puckered in a pout; his reddened cheeks matching the color of the stuffed fox Louis got him on the Christmas’ carnival last week.

“Harry…” She warns.

And just like that, his bottom lips start trembling and the pools on his eyes are making his green orbs look so more breath-taking than ever, so pure and wide. Little gasps are falling from his lips, soon turning into hiccuping that leads to a full-sobbing session. And he doesn’t mean to, knows his mother has more important things than seeing his son cry into his still clenched tiny fists. But it hurts so much, it hurts everywhere and it’s kind of ridiculous how much not seeing _his whatever he is_ on his birthday is affecting him, even though he would never think of mentioning it out loud because people aren’t warmed up at the idea of soulmates. _Yet_. (If people were, they surely could say Louis and Harry were soulmates by just looking at their empty eyes turn into twinkling ones when they looked at each other)

It only took Anne one attempt to open her mouth and try to comfort his crying baby for a mass of curly blond hair tied into a messy pigtail, green mischievous eyes matching his almost unnoticeable smirk under two of her tapping fingers on her bottom lip teasingly, to appear on the door frame. 

“Why are you crying, baby brother? Did Louis dump you or something?” Harry glares at her for a second fraction before more tears welled in his red rimmed eyes and made their way down his stained cheeks.

“Gemma!” Her mother exclaims disapprovingly with a hard look on her face.

“I’m sorry” She apologies with her hand on the air as an act of surrender “It’s not like he did though, did he? Oh God Haz, did he? Shit baby brother, come here, I know the first broken heart is the toughest one. Sh” She says crawling in bed with him. Anne doesn’t even try and scold her for using the “S” word; she wouldn’t actually listen when she is taking care of her brother.

Anne decides to leave the bedroom for good; she knows Gemma will do a better work than her even though sometimes it looks like she hates her younger brother. She is on the hallway, the traces of murmurs between two young children making the way to her fond smile.

_“I’m going to punch him on his pretty little face. Want me to punch him? I will”_

_“At least he is pretty”_

 

Harry is a mess. He is a mess and he looks so ridiculous –ridiculously cute, mind you- with his face all red and wet with tears, runny nose and a little frown between his eyebrows each time he tries to cry, giggle and cough all at the same time. Absolutely ridiculous.

And Gemma is still on her little bubble, explaining well detailed so many different forms to murder his best friend. She is so excited Harry almost hasn’t the heart to tell him Louis isn’t the reason he is crying. _Almost_.

“Shut up Gems” He whines between coughs and snorts.

“Depends. Are you going to keep crying or do I have to bring him here and torture him until you are happy again” She sasses back.

“I won’t, just please stop threatening my best friend to death” Now it’s her time to snort.

So he explains, he explains how he can’t go to Louis’ birthday because of his stupid cold and how much it hurts he isn’t going to be able to tell him he loves him and how badly he wants to be there for him. He explains he is scared, he is scared because there are going to be people there, _People Gemma! And I’m not going to be there to tell them to back off because he is mine! ,_ and _, what if they steal them from me?_

He explains, and almost cries, and attempts to laugh between sneezes when his sister sees the tears that are about to come and slides a finger down her throat while mouthing “ _Kill him_ ”

And hey, at least he didn’t try to suffocate himself with the pillow case when Gemma left the bedroom singing “Louis and Harry sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

He is too young for it anyways, he tells himself with burning cheeks.

When he least expects it, it’s already the 24th and Louis’ birthday present is burning his hands, almost glowing –he decided he wouldn’t drop it all day, it made him feel he was closer to being with Louis- He is still tucked in bed, his hair is a tangled mess and it looks as if his dry lips were trying to compete with his nose on which one was dryer. He has bags under his eyes by now, and his sweet smooth voice is gone and replaced by a rough hoarse one. His sister cried of laugher for years when she first heard him ask for chocolate milk.

He feels miserable, doesn’t even dream of getting out of bed at this point and he has given up by now to try and make his mother change her mind about letting him go to the birthday party –pretty much because he can’t even open his mouth to talk, but. _Details_ -

And worst of all?

He hasn’t spoken to Louis in two days. _Two. Days_. He thinks he might commit suicide if he spends another twenty four hours without seeing that crinkled smile he’s come to love over the years. The amount of how much he misses his best friend could almost be compared to the amount of love he has for him, and that’s, like, _a lot_.

“Make sure you tell him I love him” He mumbles from under the covers when his mother goes to his bedroom to give him a kiss before Gemma and she go to Louis’ house.

“Of course baby” She murmurs back poking at his dimple, trying to lighten his mood “Are you sure you don’t want us to give him your present?” To which Harry shakes his head, no, he wants to give him himself, it’s the least he can do for not going to the birthday.

Anne nods solemnly before shutting softly the door behind her.

With that Harry is left home alone, something that has never happen. And it’s not because he hates being alone so his mother has to stay at home with him always, it’s just that anytime there was a possibility of staying alone Louis would immediately jump at the opportunity he was given and stay with him so they could have the full house for themselves and their games of the _Princess and Pirate_ (Harry always being the princess rescued by the good pirate, because _yes Harry, pirates can be good sometimes too_ )

So yes, Harry is alone and drowned in self-pity and he wants to start crying all over again because he is thinking about all the scenarios that play on his head, scenarios that show what Louis is doing on his birthday _without him_ and how much fun is having _without him_ and how he could be easily making new best friends he wants to _hold hands with and cuddle, kiss all over their faces until their tummy hurts from all the giggles and love like he’s never loved anybody, whisper all his secrets into the night and say what he loves about them._ And those are the things he does with _Harry_ , and the secrets he tells _Harry_ , and the praises he gives _Harry_.

And Harry doesn’t like sharing. He hates it and he is contemplating throwing an oversized red jumper –which belongs to Louis, thank you- over his head and taking his shoes from under the bed, shaking his hair so it molds a little above his eyes and with Louis’ present in a hand and a packet of tissues in the other going by walking to Louis’ house himself; pajama pants still on.

He is halfway from getting out of bed –He is slow, okay? His pounding head doesn’t help. And the moving the floor is doing doesn’t, either- his fingertips can feel the fabric of the soft warm jumper that he loves not because it’s from _him_ , but because it hangs over his shoulders and even reaches his tights; the sleeves passed his entire fists; and Louis always tells him he is the cutest human being, so there’s that –It’s a funny story how he kept the cloth to himself, but that’s for another day to tell-

He is about to grab a fistful of the fabric on the sleeve when he hears a thump behind him and jumps taken back, drops the jumper to the floor groaning because he almost had it and now he has to move more to take it again. The groan turns into a squeak that leaves his parted lips when he feels arms around his waist, tackling him to the mattress.

“You shouldn’t leave your window left open, princess” He murmurs with wet lips pressed against the spot under his ear, sending shivers down Harry’s spine. He melts under the touch, though, goes almost limp and it’s funny how seconds ago he was tense like a rubber band and now he could happily die in the arms of his captor. And as if it was a mechanic process they start moving without being aware, legs getting tangled and fingers being intertwined, heads making their way to the other’s chest –in Louis’ case, chin tucked above Harry’s curls, nose nuzzling at them- and arms getting around each other’s back.

“Louis” Harry sighs happily, and if he had more strength than he has now he would probably be screaming and crying of joy, and argue about how he shouldn’t have left his own party, less more he shouldn’t have climbed all the way to his window even though it was just a second floor. “Louis” He starts chanting, his tongue getting tired and his voice cracking here and there, and just. He feels so tired, and nothing hurts anymore –well, except his head. Everything keeps rolling around them- but the hurt has being replaced with more tiredness, not being able to sleep those past days because of the hurt he felt. So it’s just everything, and it feels too much, he just wants to sleep and the tiredness is starting to hurt now.

_He is just so tired of feeling hurt._

And he cries, he cries softy on Louis’ chest, the tears wetting his sweater and some of them even his tanned neck. He cries tears of tiredness, but he cries tears of joy because he though he wouldn’t see his boy on this special day and Louis just went and made his worst day the best one by missing his own party and instead spends it with him. He is crying like the baby he is, he knows. And he doesn’t care one bit because his boy is here, shushing him with sweet words and making light patterns on his back with his long fingers. It is such a scene, Louis trying to calm his prince –even though he calls him princess, he knows Harry is actually his blue prince- with reassuring words and loving touches and Harry using him like a human tissue, hands clenched hard on the back of his sweater as if Louis would disappear and all of this was just a sick dream his mind made up.

“Sh love, I’m right here. Please stop crying baby, you are going to make me cry” Louis coos kissing Harry’s temple softly, his hands coming all the way from Harry’s back to catch all the tears with his thumbs that keep falling from his baby’s eyes. Louis is looking at him with so much love and pride it’s actually scary to see a seven years old boy so in love with his best friend of forever. And his eyes are starting to get glossy, he is such a sap god, like he said since he was four; he is _whipped_. Always has, always will.

In that moment Harry locks eyes with him, pure green meeting fierce blue. Harry’s breathe hitches and he stops crying altogether, the little pants coming from his mouth muted. Louis smiles.

Harry does, too. And Louis pokes at his dimple, Harry smiles even wider.

They are still looking at each other, Harry completely on top of him, and one of Louis hand is carded through Harry’s messy curls; the other going all the way from his dimple to his bottom lip so he can stroke it. Their heads are moving towards each other without them noticing, forehead against forehead and their noses are touching, bumping when the other makes a little move that doesn’t consist on leaning in.

They are so close, Harry thinks, just a little more and he could taste forever. He can feel Louis’ breath tickling his cheeks, his heart beating faster and faster, almost synchronized with Harry’s heart. Their breaths are starting to speed, but neither one will acknowledge it too caught up on each other’s eyes although there’s almost nothing to see due to the closeness. They are afraid if they say something, the spell on the bedroom will break and the moment will be gone for a long time, so they don’t.

But then.

“I always knew you were more beautiful from this sight, princess” Louis murmurs, lips ghosting his left cheek.

And-

 Harry doesn’t even have time to get embarrassed because there are lips on his.

Louis’ lips are on his and he has to get his own arms under Louis’ neck –complicatedly if your partner is actually underneath you, per se his neck is on the pillow- so he doesn’t leaves his room flying from all the happiness his body is vibrating with. He wants to squeal so badly.

And the kiss isn’t that great, no tongue or lips moving together. It’s just the pressure of lips against lips, mouth closed and too short, something like a little peck but sweeter and slower.

When they pull apart, Harry can’t contain himself and leans again for a little peck. And then another, _and another_. And Louis starts laughing, head tilted back as much as he can still on the bed, laughing so marvelously because his boy is actually the cutest thing on the planet. Both of them end up giggling, without even knowing why but they don’t really care. And when they stop laughing they cuddle again, this time in a better position, because, _Lou, if I stay with my head on your chest I can’t give you little kisses,_ so, obviously.

 _Totally whipped_ is the theme that plays on repeat in his mind. Okay…

“Happy birthday, Lou” He mumbles on his collar bones, cold nose nuzzling at his neck.

And they still have so many things to talk about, Harry still has to complain about his cold and Louis has to tell him about the new kids on the next door who are like _super cool Haz, you’ll love them,_ to which Harry will get jealous and will be pouting a little so Louis has to kiss it away, they still have to discuss about how Louis could get away from his birthday party and nobody could tell by now, Louis still has to tease Harry a little because of the jumper thing. Yes, it’s a _thing_.

And Harry will give him Louis his present, and will wish him a happy birthday a thousand times more, and Louis will thank him for the Spiderman jumper that no one has ever bought him. And Harry will propose to Louis, saying a bunch of things that don’t even make sense but will have Louis crying like a baby which will make harry cry too, and even though it’s a plastic ring the thought is there –and when they get engaged, for real this time, this first time will come to their minds- and they will kiss again until their lips are swollen and their cheeks are red. And they will hide under the covers, with their hands intertwined, muffling giggles on each other’s mouth and breathing each other’s air.

But for now, they are spread on Harry’s little bed, loving each other and knowing they are forever.

“Yeah?” Louis murmurs back.

_“Yeah”_

When Anne and Jay arrive home, desperate looking for Louis, they find them sleeping under the covers. And Harry looks more alive than he’s ever felt for the past days.

Gemma laughs so hard when she sees them, claiming that she knew Louis would do something like this when he found out loverboy wasn’t going to his birthday. And they ground them, but even their own mothers don’t have the heart to ground them separately.  

_It’s such as good feeling, knowing you are the other half he needs to live._


	3. Chapter 3

**-6 & 10-**

_“What”_

 

It’s the first word that leaves his parted dry lips.

 

**_“What”_ **

****

The only thing that his mind seems to process, the only bunch of letters that have meaning in his head at

the moment. It doesn’t make sense.

And the thing is, Louis doesn’t understand; doesn’t understand how the tables can turn so fast, one moment he is the happiest thing walking on Earth, excitement running through his veins and messy locks bouncing on his forehead in sync within his little feet dancing on the mattress –he has never felt so light- and mere minutes after; his world comes crushing between his cold trembling fingers. His body gets rigid and the color on his face is gone; he thinks his knees might give out, leaving him on the floor until his shuddering breaths stop as he passes out before anyone has the chance to tell him this is a sick joke, a painful nightmare on a rainy night of September –but it isn’t, it’s not and it hurts right on the middle of his chest.

His eyes are so wide open they could pop out, little flecks of shiny green all around his baby blue eyes now as noticeable as ever.

Louis wants to throw up, and he thinks he might.

It isn’t fair, how broken he feels at that moment. He just wants to curl himself under the covers and cry until he’s run out of tears –He thinks, for his boy, he would never run out of them.

He doesn’t even hear how his mother ends the sentence, and even when he knows his insides are burning and he just wants to scream, Louis feels numb.

Numb when his mother rocks him into her arms and when she takes him to the car. The lights from the streets illuminate and he doesn’t even blink when a blinding flash falls right on his cerulean eyes. He shuts himself out, avoiding any kind of contact with anything or anyone.

He can’t stop his mind from replying the scene he thinks will haunt him forever, and for the first time in his life _he doesn’t want to remember._

_-Louis is glowing._

_His eyes are shining so bright even his cheerful smile is jealous of them and his sun-kissed skin is on fire. He wants to shout and throw himself off a cliff and cry and laugh all at once. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, but he is so_ so _happy he can’t bring himself to care._

And, well.

_Sue him. He has every right to be a fluffy ball made up of sunshine and glitter now that his boy is coming home. It’s been a week since the last time he saw the contagious dimpled smile his thumbs trace before every kiss and those green eyes that take his breath away each time they hold his gaze._

_It’s been an entire week without being able to tuck his nose into those curls he tangles his fingers in. He misses everything about Harry, like the way his eyelashes create shadowy figures on his flawless cheeks or how his pouty lips look on a full night of sleep._

_It’s weird, not feeling two lanky arms around waist while fingers caress any trace of sleep away. Suddenly, he spends every single night awake, waiting for the squeaky protests heard each time he tucks his barefoot feet onto Harry’s calves –Because, yes, apparently apart from being a walking cutie he is a living heater too- that never come._

_So yes, happy is an understatement. His boy is coming home in, like, half an hour and he’s being running all over the place non-stop probably for the last two days. His mother wonders where all that stamina goes when she tells him to wash the dishes._

_He is jumping on his bed, cotton pajama pants clinging to his hips and hair rifled in a messy quiff. A mischievous smirk matches his twinkling blue eyes while his lips mouth the lyrics of a pop song ringing through the speakers of the radio, his entire body swinging to the rhythm._

**_“The coach said, ‘Hey, son, what's your problem Tell me have you lost your mind?’."_** _He sings, screams, gets crazy because, fuck. Did he mention it?_ His boy is coming home _, his Harry, after a living-hell week of summer._

_“Louis”_

**_“Daddy said ‘you'll lose your free ride to college. Boy, you better tell her goodbye’."_** _His reddening cheeks are burning, and he –obviously- is having trouble catching his breathe. Does he know? Yes. Does he care?_ Not one bit.

“ _Louis, honey_ ” _Louis whips his head and looks to his right, the oversized green glasses resting on his button nose falling a bit. His mother is standing there, a sad smile upon her and a tear making its way to her chin. And Louis just knows._

_He knows something is wrong way before her mother opens her mouth, can see it through the worried lines written all over his mom’s expression and the white knuckles of her clenched hands._

_He almost doesn’t want to hear what she has to say; it’s bad news. Why would he? He is so close to tasting Heaven, so close to embrace his boy so tight they can’t breathe. But, oh my._

_Curiosity killed the cat._

_“Baby…” Louis burrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Baby, please sit down”_

_His heart rate is starting to increase and his hands are sweating so much –It almost feels like the first day of school._

_He doesn’t want to sit down, he refuses. He tells her mother so, arms crossed across his chest “I don’t want to. What’s wrong?”_

_“Honey…” She whispers, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes “It’s Harry”_

_Louis feels his heart breaking. He doesn’t want to hear it, his ears are ringing and the thumping of his heart is making him crazy. The tears are blurring his sight and he feels his lips trembling like mad._

_“He… He had an accident” Jay chokes out “ **He was, he was just about to get to the car when a truck came out of nowhere and he got hit by it** ” –_

Louis doesn’t feel anything. He just stares at the cars passing by, wondering who they are and what stories do they have to tell to the world. He doesn’t notice he is being pulled out of the car and into the hospital until he feels hesitating hands making their way to his hair and trembling words to his ears. He looks up to find a shaking Anne waiting for them at the parking lot, and all he can do is to attach his little arms to her neck, head tucked into her collar bones as he, finally, lets himself cry. He just wants to run away, but he really doesn’t want to get away from what somehow remains him of his boy. He refuses to entangle himself from Anne, securing his thighs around her middle and hiding from the world as he whimpers and tucks his head further into her pale blue blouse. Somehow along the way he lifts his head, looking at the white walls that make him want to hang himself –White is the color he most hates, he decides- and stares at all the tear-stained faces wondering if he will be one of them by tomorrow.

Soon enough he is facing the white door that leads him where his baby is resting. Louis is still curled on Anne’s side, foot locked under her back as his little fists grip at her blouse getting it all wrinkly, so hard he feels his knuckles beginning to shake, and he doesn’t even try to hide the tears that keep falling down his cheeks, wetting the woman’s warm collar bones.

His mother is next to him, he can feel her in the way her fingers caress the visible skin where the pajama t-shirt has ridden up on his back; can feel the concerned wet eyes on him and the unsteady breaths that make their way out of her parted lips hitting his neck.

 Someone is talking to Anne –the doctor, Louis assumes- but the blue eyed boy can’t bring himself to turn around and listen, he feels the world swallowing him up and his bones seem frozen. A high pitched sound is piercing his ears and his head is a messy web of thoughts between the lines of “ _Oh my god my baby is hurt_ ” and “ _please be okay_ ” and “ _please don’t blame me please don’t hate me_ ”

 

“This is my fault” is what comes out from his mouth, the echo o it interrupting the conversation going on the hall, and suddenly three pairs of eyes are on him

Louis raises his head tentatively, refusing to make eye contact, orbs welling up with unshed tears as his intertwined fingers tighten the safe grip behind Anne’s neck.

“This is my entire fault” he whispers, a lump already forming on his throat and his red cheeks are shining with force when the dim lights hit his face “I remember – _I promised him. I promised I would never let anybody hurt him and now –_ I just _._ I broke my promise. I’m so sorry Anne, I’m sorry please _–Anne I’m sorry please forgive me”_ He sobs out, rushed words getting tangled and lost on the tip of his tongue , wanting to rip his hair off because the voices in his mind won’t shut up.

The three adults gape at him, mouth wide open as they stare at the chocked up boy squirming onto Anne’s arms as he hides his face again against Harry’s mum’s neck, nose buried on the fabric of the blouse trying to muffle the screams coming from his throat.

“Oh God baby” Anne murmurs squeezing the young boy as his mother comes from behind while she takes his hands in her. The doctor decides to leave them alone, telling Anne they can go visit the curly boy whenever they want now, and with an appreciative pat to Louis’ back, he gets lost within the halls the cold hospital holds.

Between Anne and Jay they kneel onto the floor, both of their backs sliding through the wall as Anne keeps rocking Louis in her arms, and with so much tenderness they lay the brunette boy on the ground, pushing the strands of hair out of his sweaty forehead. He is shaking, almost hyperventilating and he keeps chanting the same few words.

 _“Please I’m sorry please don’t hate me_ ”

Both women take him, the head on Jay’s lap and the rest of the body on Anne’s.

“Sh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay; it’s not your fault. Accidents can happen okay? You are just 10; you aren’t supposed to protect him fully –not yet, at least” Jay murmurs on the boy’s ear “You have to stop crying, okay? Think about Harry, he is going to get so sad when he sees his Boo crying instead of kissing him better” Louis is starting to calm down, the shakiness of his body turning down to nothing –Even though the tears keep rolling down his face and he has kind of bloodshot eyes, the whimpers from his mouth are now almost mute.

“I just _–I want him to be okay, you know?”_   He mutters one last time, heavy eyelashes forming shadows on his tear-stained cheekbones as the greenish blue from his eyes fade away and he falls asleep. Jay and Anne look at each other, a relieved sigh falling from their lips as they take Louis once again, and with one hand on each side of the door they push and enter to the room.

The room is, you know, kind of quiet. And clean, it’s so clean everywhere, white walls with red couches and white sheets covering up the bruised body of a 6 year old boy. He looks so peaceful, so tiny right now, with the curly locks all over the pillow and pouty pink lips matching the frowned eyebrows he is wearing. His right cheek is messily scraped, thin red lines coming all the way from his temple and covering almost his apple cheek and his bottom lip seems pretty bruised as well, a yellowish shade covering the upper part of his chin as the rest of it turns into a vivid shade of purple combined with red.

“When Louis sees him tomorrow he is going to flip some shit, _get yourself prepared for the tantrum he is gonna throw_ ” Jay tells Anne, who is just stroking Harry’s good cheek with one hand as she squeezes Harry’s fingers with the other.

In that moment, the green from Harry’s eyes flashes for a second and he gets out a raspy “ _Louee?_ ” before he closes them again and doesn’t open his mouth for the rest of the night. It kind of reminds Jay of the first time Louis and Harry met, and how Louis, infatuated with the curly haired boy, couldn’t shut up for the whole night because “Mum, he said my name. Did you hear it? He was so cute, he said Louee and it’s so cute. Mum, when are we going to see them again? Mum. Mum? _Mum_ ” She can easily say she almost threw him out of the window –The kid didn’t shut up, _okay?_

The sit on the couch for hours, not sleeping a blink for the whole night, calling Gemma’s sleepover friend’s mum to ask her if she could bring her to the hospital tomorrow morning and checking on Louis, sleeping on the big sofa next to theirs.

By the time morning comes, Louis starts stirring, yawning whilst rubbing his eyes and promptly falls out of the couch –thing which earns a loud thump heard in the whole floor and a little mass of curly hair twitching on his sleep and awaking.

“Ouch” Louis whines, clutching at his forehead. He sits crossed leg on the floor, his back turned to the _stupid_ couch as his eyes wander to the little bump formed beneath the pale sheets of the hospital bed. Realization crosses his eyes, with a mix of worry and fear, and in no time he is back to his feet, pushing away the fringe that keeps falling on his eyes as he gets to the end of the bed. He stands on his tippy toes –Because no, Louis never was a tall person, _but whatever_ \- and the only thing he sees is a leg on a cast and what seems to be a big idiotic mass of chocolate hair. He decides that’s not _exactly_ the best view given.

So, he just, moves? He moves all the way up to where Harry’s head is resting on the pillow, and when he takes a look on the boy –Oh man he just loses it. A squeaky sound leaves his throat has he covers his mouth with one hand, eyes welling up again –And he didn’t even think he had that much amount of fluids on his body to form more tears.

“ _I told you so_ ” The blue eyed boy hears someone whispering –probably his mum- but he doesn’t care because _what have they done to his boy?_ He is hurt, so badly hurt, his face is all bruised, a cast on his leg and his left wrist is banded up; the right one covered with needles connected to tubes and Louis can do nothing but cry, because, that’s his boy in that bed, and that’s his boy who is hurt, and how can someone so beautiful be in so much pain and _please make me do anything but don’t make him suffer._

 _“Baby? Baby it’s me, Louee. Can you open your pretty eyes for me? I miss them, you know? Please let me take a peek”_ He says giving Harry’s left cheek a light kiss. Harry flutters his eyes open, and with a toothy smile he murmurs back a small “Hallo”

“ _I think he is high_ ” Anne murmurs behind Louis’ back “ _I think that’s actually his normal self when he is around Louis_ ” Jay responds back with a small laugh.

“Are you okay baby? Are you hurt? I was so _so_ worried, thought this was my fault” Louis says again combing through his hair carefully, making Harry purr.

“What? This not… Not your fault… Don’t be silly… I still love you very much so…” And just like that, he drifts off to sleep.

 

Saying the week he stays in the hospital is hard is an understatement. Louis never – like, _ever. Literally_ \- moves out of the bed unless he has to pee or the doctors have to really check harry out and can’t do it with Louis the octopus clinging to him like a madman, Gemma just keeps asking for permission to go and find whoever did that to his little brother and make justice because _Honestly_ Jay _, if you expect that pile of fluffy pillows and heart eyes to function in the real world you are lying to yourself_ which just gets her a big _Hey, that’s not nice at all_ from a spread sleepy Harry lying on his back while Louis keeps peppering his neck with light pecks and nibbles; and Anne and Jay actually just sit on the red sofa and admire from afar how they bite each other’s head off. It’s a funny week for the pair.

The day harry gets discharged from the hospital he goes to his house and sleeps there for a whole 10 hours before he is packing a suitcase full of clothes and some toys because he is staying at the Tomlinson’s household for a while and he couldn’t be more excited.

It was Jay’s idea to stay at their house for a while, with Harry being injured and all that. Besides, now that it’s only the three of them plus Jay and Louis space isn’t really a problem and their mother are best friends, _so why the hell not?_ –Maybe because Louis is hanging from the chandelier of the entrance and climbing through the walls but oh well.

 

Harry is staying at Louis’ bedroom –as it has always been- and the blue eyed boy has already thrown away some of his clothes so they can fit all of Harry’s. Now they have three pairs of trainers and five pairs of tiny boots and four pairs of mini vans and Harry is wearing oversized t-shirts that hang off from his shoulders all the time and there are two pillows on the bed and two beating hearts laced together on the silent nights, where only the fainting singing of chests falling together and promises thrown into the air can be heard –It makes them wonder if that’s what future is holding for them, late night films and toothbrushes rubbing together on the sink.

It’s late at night when it happens. They are sprawled on the mattress, Harry’s curls tickling Louis’ nose and chin and their legs are a tangled mess with their arms wrapped around each other. Harry is wearing that pajama –stolen form Louis, but he doesn’t mind because _Harry you just wear it better_ \-   that he loves because the short sleeves reach to his elbow and the fabric makes him all dizzy, a constant reminder of how home feels and how his boy smells and loves and kisses, cuddled up into Louis warmth, his head tucked into the elder’s boy collar bones as he sniffs and tickles his jaw. Louis is looking at him, fond showing, tugging at his t-shirt a bit, as the moonlight filters from the open window in front of them and creates shadowy figures on their bodies.

 _“Do you think we will get married?”_ The younger boy asks with such a small voice Louis thinks he just made up things, and starts shifting a bit when Louis doesn’t open his mouth “Mum says people get married because they don’t want to lose each other, _and I don’t want to ever lose you Lou_ ” The curly boy raises his head, looking at him with those _greengreengreen_ eyes that drives him mad most of the time, a special glow staring at him as if he was the most precious treasure in Neverland and Harry was Peter Pan, running away from the Captain Hook and the rest of the pirates in fear of showing them the path to find him. “Don’t you want to?” He whispers into the night, big innocent eyes looking at him, and damn it, Louis can’t think straight anymore.

 _“Well duh”_ The older boy finally whispers back “I mean, if getting married means I get to play with your Spiderman figures forever and ever, I don’t see why we shouldn’t” Louis is looking back at Harry, hand lifting to where Harry’s red bruise on his cheek was a few weeks ago as he touches it with tender, slim fingers.

“You promise?” Harry murmurs, lips hovering over Louis’ cheekbones and eyelashes and nose.

“I promise. I promise we will get married and I’ll buy us a big house where we can get my footballs and all your ridiculous boots, hell I’ll even buy you a cat if it means I get to keep you forever” Louis dreams, finding it hard to stay awake “You are my best friend Hazza”

“Yeah?” Harry asks quietly, nuzzling at Louis’ cheek with his nose.

“Obviously” Louis lifts his head, giving the curly boy a light peck, tightening the safe grip around Harry’s middle and resting his head on the pillow again “Now, sleep”

“Okay” Harry mutters one last time groggily, letting his head fall on Louis’ chest as the heavy breaths lulls him to sleep.

“ _Yeah, okay_ ” The older boy mutters back, kissing the mass of curls and sniffing as he falls asleep.

 

_And I would run a thousand miles, just to breathe your scent for one last time._

.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo how was it? Too bad?  
> If you liked it please leave kuddos and comments, and if you didn't then I'm sorry that I stole part of your time.  
> Thaaanks if you kept reading 'till the end, love you all xx.  
> ps: It has parts, this is the first one. I think it's going to have four or maybe five parts, I don't know yet. Hope you like the first paaart


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